A Bandom Kissing Meme.

[turps]

Yesterday was national kissing day, and I was talking about how it would have been a good excuse for a kiss meme, and how it seemed those kind of themed memes seemed to have died out a little.

Various people suggested I host one myself, and I figured why not? The worst that could happen is no one plays or comments and I end up with an empty post. Therefore....



Now, rules, and if I've missed something you think should be there or have been unclear just let me know.


All previous and current bandom bands and members are welcome.
All pairings are welcome. Threesomes, moresomes, bring them on. Gen is fine too, and if you want to do solo kisses somehow, I'd love to see how.
Any kinds of kisses go, on the hand, on the forehead, making out for hours, brotherly kisses, friendly kisses, the kind in the middle of hot, sweaty sex.

Leave a prompt with the kind of kiss you'd like to see. Either general ( I love kisses in the rain ) or specific ( I'd love to see Frank kiss Gabe and have to stand on a box to do so ) but remember don't get too detailed, try for a middle balance.
You can leave as many prompts as you want, but only one prompt per comment.
If you want to answer your own prompt, go for it. The more kisses the better.
Prompts can be filled more than once with either fic or art.
You can write/draw as little or as much as you like.
If you do write/draw please put a pairing and title in the subject line, that way I can link from the main post.
Please warn if needed.

Other than that, go for it. Prompt kisses, write kisses, draw kisses. *mwah*



(1)Gerard/Mikey -- Spot by akamine_chan
(2)Mikey/Ryan -- Cooking Class Verse by eledhwenlin
(3)Frank/Gerard -- First sober kiss by greedy_dancer
(4)Bob/Mikey -- Last Kiss by akamine_chan
(5)Dr Death Defying/Show Pony -- lazy morning by kopperblaze
(6)Frank/Mikey -- Reward by chalcopyrite
(7)Bob/Mikey -- A Little Patience by radioaches
(8)It's Never Enough -- Brendon/Spencer by knight_tracer
(9)Favorite Little Brother -- Mikey&Gerard akamine_chan
(10)Sub!Verse Late Nights -- Mikey/Ray by bebunny
(11)Korse/Fun Ghould -- Something gritty by tuesdaysgone
(12)High school sweethearts -- Brendon/Spencer by turps33
(13)No Big Deal Frank/Mikey by dear_monday
(14)With Your Mask On If You Have To Frank/Gerard by chalcopyrite
(15)Lipstick Kisses -- Frank/Gerard by lovebashed
(16)Practice Makes Perfect Gerard/Mikey by ladyfoxxx
(17)Killjoys from the POV of the kid by kopperblaze
(18)Killjoys Korse/Party Poison, first kiss by bebunny
(19)Painted Desert Serenade Party Poison/Jet Star by by chalcopyrite
(20)Playing Like I Know That Game -- Gerard/Patrick by creepylicious
(21)Mikey/Pete -- Not wanting to let go by ivesia19
(22)Dallon/Brendon -- dare by ivesia19
(23)Hello -- Gerard/Patrick by madambeetroot
(24)Gerard/Grant Morrison - a surprise (or two!) at Comic-Con by fleurdeliser and tuesdaysgone
(25)Bob/Mikey killjoys double dog dare by turps33
(26)Brendon/Frank -- stolen kisses during something actiony by delphinapterus
(27)Brendon/Ryan -- post split by ivesia19
(28)Gerard solo -- Sweet by jedusaur
(29)Frank/Mikey -- kissing in cold weather ( art fill ) by omens
(30)Ryan/Jon -- saying goodbye is hard to do by sailorstkwrning
(31)Keep Me Breathing -- Brendon/Gerard by creepylicious
(32)Gerard -- In the Mirror by undeny
(33)Faded -- Gerard&Mikey by romanticalgirl
(34)Like I'm Feeling You Gabe/William by romanticalgirl
(35)Summer For the Rest Of Us -- Gerard/Patrick by romanticalgirl
(36)A Better Offer -- Gerard/Frank/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(37)Hot For Teacher -- Gerard/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(38)Barter System -- Ray/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(39)The One Where Mikey Doesn't Kiss and Frank's Been Watching a Long Time -- Mikey/Frank by greenskribbles
(40)Approximate Sunlight -- Frank/Gerard by piratesunk
(41)Soundtrack of the Summer Frank/Gerard by piratesunk
(42)Remaking What Otherwise We Should Have Thrown Away -- Frank/Gerard by fabu
(43)Gabe/Patrick and Gabe/Pete -- He kissed a boy just to start shit. jedusaur
(44)This Is a Gift, It Comes With a Price -- Dr D/Show Pony by creepylicious
(45)Snake Vision -- Kobra Kid/Gabe by jedusaur
(46)All Ways -- Mikey/Franks by jedusaur
(47)A Blustery Night -- Brendon/Travie by dr_jasley
(48)Hazy Lazy Day -- Ray/Mikey by xoxxblitz7
(49)Welcome Home -- Gerard/Lindsey by turps33
(50)Love Droplets -- Gerard/Frank by xoxxblitz7
(51)Up For Air -- Patrick/Pete by jedusaur and verbyna
(52)See You -- Mikey/Brendon by bootson
(53)Staged -- Brendon/Spencer by bootson
(54)(How bad I want this) scandal; MCR: Frank/Mikey (+Gerard) by creepylicious
(55)Mikey/Ryan -- in a cage by slashxmistress
(56)Share Some Skin -- Gerard/Mikey by creepylicious
(57)Mikey/Gabe -- Projekt Gayhem 1/3 by jedusaur
(58)Skin -- Mikey/William by romanticalgirl
(59)Gerard/Lyn-Z - Take You In by romanticalgirl
(60)Pete/Mikey -- first time by romanticalgirl
(61)Awake With Sleepy Eyes -- Gerard/Gabe/Brendon by dr_jasley
(62)Take A Sad Song and Make It Better -- Brendon/Spencer by fabu
(63)And You're Overdue -- Brendon/Gabe/Gerard by creepylicious
(64)Gabe/Gerard -- the morning after the night before by delphinapterus
(65)We Kiss Like Painted Tigers -- Bert/Gerard by dear_monday
(66)Sink Right In -- Bob/Frank by desfinado
(67)Dem Dry Bones -- Gerard/Mikey -- desfinado
(68)Wish You Were Here -- Pete/William by romanticalgirl
(69)Bring 'Em Back Alive -- Kobra Kid/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(70)Worst Ever -- Mikey/Pete by desfinado
(71)Some Kind of Wonderful -- Pete/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(72)Gerard/Mikey, Frank/Ray - Love and Chainsaws by s0ckpupp3t
(73)Just a Shade of Green -- Frank/Brendon by dapatty
(74)On The Couch -- Mikey/Frank by s0ckpupp3t
(75)Brendon/Ryan by fannyt
(76)Familiarity Breeds Contempt -- Mikey/Pete/Alicia by romanticalgirl
(77)How They Fit -- MCR GSF -- by dapatty
(78)Hold On -- Pete/Travie by romanticalgirl
(79)William/Carden -- Airports by romanticalgirl
(80)Not Quite Paradise --Gerard/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(81)Patrick/Bebe -- More in common than just Pete by romanticalgirl
(82)Welcome to the Band, Dan/The Used -- by rokittomars
(83)Noises Off -- Mikey/Jepha by mtminded1
(84)Objects in the Mirror -- Gerard/Jamia by fabu
(85)Frank/Fun Ghoul by akamine_chan
(86)Frank/Ray - Late Nights Over Monroeville by delphinapterus
(87)Will Slowly Fade Away -- Gerard/Mikey by turps33
(88)In search of all things beautiful 1/2; Crossover - Frank/Gerard, Adam/Tommy by creepylicious
(89)If Wishes Were Horses -- Pete/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(90)CS GSF by rokittomars
(91)Anchored in That Old Time Rock'n'Roll by delphinapterus
(92)Worth the Wait -- Pete/Mikey by radioaches
(93)Diversion -- Mikey/Alicia by romanticalgirl
(94)The Warmth of Spring -- Brendon/Brent by dr_jasley
(95)This Is Not A Love Song -- Frank/Gerard by fabu
(96)Pedicone/Frank -- working out by romanticalgirl
(97)Mikey/Pete -- reunited by cold_clarity
(98)Luke and Leia -- Gerard/Mikey by s0ckpupp3t
(99) Mikey/Gabe -- drunken, sloppy make outs by romanticalgirl
(100) Bob/Ray --in the studio by syndelar
(101) Not Kissed Brendon/Spencer by eledhwenlin
(102)Brendon -- bouncy kisses by brandywine421
(103) Bebe/Gabe -- Gabe wooing by brandywine421

Comments

Crossover, Gabe/Bebe

[inlovewithnight.livejournal.com]

Divas

TAI, William/Carden

[inlovewithnight.livejournal.com]

Airport

Re: TAI, William/Carden

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

It's a standing joke whenever they're in an airport. Someone teases him about lyrics and someone else teases him about disappearing and Mike always looks at him with eyes he can't read and reminds him not to have a nervous breakdown. Of course, that was when there were more than three of them, more than just two people to tease him. He thinks about it as Mike drives him to the airport in the rented car, passing most of Nashville in a small Kia Rio.

"It feels weird."

Mike grunts instead of commenting, but William thinks that's probably more because he hasn't had coffee yet, but there's a drive-thru Starbucks up ahead, so the level of intelligent conversation may rise at some point soon.

"I mean, I know it's just a day really, but..." He sighs. He's flown to and from Mike's place in California, literally going from LAX to O'Hare, and the joke has been like a bitter pill on his tongue or stuck in his throat dissolving. He doesn't want things the way they were, and he doesn't want normalcy. He just wishes he knew what he wanted or if what he wants is possible, real. "You should come with me."

"Last minute tickets cost more money than I've got. Besides, I'm going to see the Old 97's, and if you think I like you more than them, you're seriously mistaken."

"You're an asshole."

Mike looks at him like he's grown another head. "Yeah. Is there a reason you sound surprised?"

"No." He crosses his arms over his chest and stares out the window. "You could at least pretend you'll miss me."

"Oh my god, you are such a fucking princess." Mike drives into the parking lot of a Denny's and William's stomach rumbles. No coffee means no breakfast, and right now he'd probably gnaw Mike's arm off if he thought he had something other than bitter gristle under the skin. He'd definitely shank Carden if he tried to get in the way of him and a Moons Over My Hammy. "You want me to swoon or something?"

"What?"

"Because you're fucking pouting."

"I'm not pouting. I'm offended that you like people in another band more than you like your band."

"I don't have to live on a bus with them."

"You don't have to live on a bus with me."

"Jesus Christ." Mike growls under his breath and grabs the t-shirt William's wearing in his fist and jerks him in closer. William smells peppermint from Mike's mouth and wonders briefly if he remembered to brush his teeth, when suddenly Mike's kissing him, his tongue licking along the roof of William's mouth.

It's easy to surrender to this, because he fights Mike on everything else. He settles his hand on Mike's shoulder and squeezes, letting Mike control the kiss, take what he wants from William's mouth until he pulls away, both of them breathless, mouths swollen. "So you will miss me a little?"

Carden rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear. "You won't be gone long enough to miss you. Drama queen."

"But you will."

"Yeah," Mike mutters gruffly, grudgingly. "I will."

Crossover, Pete/Mikey

[inlovewithnight.livejournal.com]

Reunited

Re: Crossover, Pete/Mikey

[cold_clarity]

man, so this only took me...three days. oy.

anyway--this is like vaguely referencing that time that Pete tweeted Mikey earlier this year (although I'm pretty sure I'm off about it having been in the winter, but whatever). the kiss is slow in coming, but it happens.

I hope you enjoy!

-----

It’s not like Pete tagged Mikey in that tweet because he expected something to come of it. They live in the same fucking city for shit's sake. It’s no marvel that they’re in the same city, ever—even if, in this case, the city they’re in happens to be on the other side of the country.

But whatever. It's whatever.

That's what Pete tells himself as he pushes through the door of the Starbucks, out of the blustering chill of a winter afternoon, to find Mikey already there, already at a table, nursing a coffee, his cheeks still pink from the sting of winter. For a moment, Pete can’t move—can barely breathe for the sudden onset of paralytic fear (fear of what?—a different question altogether). And so he stares. Watches Mikey tap his foot (an idle motion) to whatever fucking elevator jazz bullshit they’ve got droning out over the invisible sound system—all while something tightens up, vicious and splintering, right behind Pete’s sternum—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Mikey looks up before Pete can stumble back out the door, walk right back into the grey fold of the New York City winter (before he can start coming up with excuses--I wasn’t feeling well, Headed home early, I’m an idiot, I fell asleep) and his stomach bottoms out all while a quiet voice berates him for never having outgrown the tenth grade. He waves. A jerky, clumsy gesture, maybe, but it receives a wave in return—

and in response, electric sparks flickerflashsnap through Pete’s chest again, and god he’s still not quite used to Mikey without glasses (still can't quite reconcile here and now with that summer when...)

—he’s walking to the table all of a sudden and Mikey stands, abruptly, and somehow they’re crowding each other without having meant to. A stumble back and a rushed Sorry, sorry interrupted by No—No, I—

(No, I what? Do go on.)

But Mikey’s stuffing his hands into his pockets like he’s suddenly not sure why he stood up in the first place and there’s a beat of awkward silence before Pete barks out a laugh (even though absolutely nothing is funny, not now, not at all). It does something, though. Cracks the tension, maybe. Mikey invites him to sit, asks how he is while they settle in. Says it’s been awhile like that’s not the understatement of the decade.

Pete pulls off his coat. “Yeah, it has.” Settles into the free seat. “I’m not bad—You?”

“Same. Our record dropped.”

Like Pete missed that, somehow.

“I heard. Gay desert cowboys, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Someone really needs to rein Gerard in.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Mikey’s smiling, now—or at least smiling as much as Mikey ever smiles. A subtle upturn of his mouth, the corners of his eyes creasing oh-so-slightly, his eyes themselves all the more visible, now, his brow somehow sharper without the once-familiar black frames in front of it.

Pete looks away.

There’s an awkward lull that follows and the acidic sting of panic bubbles up in his gut while he casts around for something to say, something to share, to prove—

“What about your stuff?”

Mikey’s voice startles him.

“Sorry—what?” Pete looks at him.

“Your new thing. How’s it going?”

“Oh. Not bad. Still working out the kinks—you know.”

“Yeah…”

There’s something hanging on the end of that yeah—a hint towards a different subject. And it’s funny how time changes people, how Pete studies Mikey’s face and discerns absolutely nothing (and tries to remember if he could discern anything, ever, when it came to Mikey, if that boy he knew once had ever been so easily read or easily understood, or if it had always been like this and if that means nothing has changed at all).

Mikey meets his eyes. “Send me a demo sometime? I’d like to hear it.”

“Yeah—I. Sure. Yeah.”

[jedusaur]

Mikey/Pete making out, both of them wanting more but not doing it.

Worth the Wait, Mikey/Pete

[radioaches.livejournal.com]

It's too hot, even at night with the two of them together in a bunk barely big enough for one, even before Pete rolls over on his back and pulls Mikey on top of him, heat growing around them each time their mouths come together. Mikey could make out with Pete for hours like this. Mikey has made out with Pete for hours this summer, tucked away from the rest of the tour together, wasting away the time between venues, between sound checks, the best way he knows how.

Pete kisses with his whole body in a way that Mikey doesn't think anyone else he's ever been with before manages to. His lips are soft but a little chapped from the sun, and his hands are dry but warm as they slide up over Mikey's back under his t-shirt; there's not one part of him that's staying still, his foot hooked around Mikey's ankle, his hips shifting minutely against Mikey's, his breath heavy and unsteady every time they break apart. He's been spending most of the summer shirtless so far, something Mikey's had no complaints about, but it's more than just a good view of tan skin and dark tattoos when Pete pulls his shirt over his head and drops it over the side of his bunk. Mikey can drag his fingers over the bumps of Pete's ribs, trace patterns of ink he can see without looking by now. He can touch Pete's nipples, press his thumbs hard enough for Pete to bite down on his lip and whisper roughly, “Fuck.”

Everything sounds louder, amplified in the small space around them, Pete's noises, the rise and fall of both of them breathing. Mikey kisses Pete again just to keep him quiet; he's aware of the rest of the guys just the other side of the curtain and feels more conscious of it than he ever used to, even back when he was trying to hook up in the van – he feels like that, like a teenager sneaking around, with Pete more than he can remember in a long time.

“Do you,” Pete says, a buzz against his lips, and kisses him again before carrying on. “Do you wanna – you know.”

He doesn't finish the question, and it's not one of those sentences Mikey can automatically finish for him, like coffee orders and favourite ice creams. It doesn't matter too much how it ends, though - the answer is going to be yes, whatever it is, because that's the way it's been all summer so far. Mikey always wants to with Pete, no matter how bad the idea might be. They've done this, though, the making out, touching everywhere but hands always above the waist, but there's no space in the bunk, and Mikey knows – Pete's told Mikey, whispers through the darkness – that Pete hasn't done more than this with guys before, and there's a hotel night soon, a couple of nights away. Pete keeps mentioning it, and so Mikey's been keeping track more sharply than usual.

“You know I do,” he says, and bites his own bottom lip, tilting his head back, gaze flicking up to the ceiling as Pete curls a warm hand around the back of his neck and drags his lips over Mikey's throat. “What do you wanna do?” he asks, which isn't what he meant to say, but he wants to hear it from Pete anyway.

Pete inhales sharply against Mikey's shoulder, his hips twisting up. “I want – fucking everything, Mikey, you have no idea.” Mikey laughs softly, because he does have an idea, and with the way they're pressed together like this, he knows Pete must be able to feel that. “I don't even know,” Pete says, and when Mikey looks back at him, his eyes are dark and serious.

“Tuesday,” Mikey says. When he smiles, his lips feel swollen.

Pete laughs this time. “Fucking buses, man, fucking hate them. You gonna make it worth the wait, Way?”

Mikey raises his eyebrows, but he can't keep his face straight. “Wait and see,” he says, and he leans back down, kissing Pete again before either of them laughs too loudly, kissing the rest of the night away.

[jedusaur]

Gerard/Lindsey body worship, Gerard kissing Lindsey everywhere but the lips.

[jedusaur]

Gabe/Brendon, body shots.

Frank/Mikey

[gala-apples.livejournal.com]

shotgunning pot.

Bert/Gerard

[gala-apples.livejournal.com]

smeared makeup.

Bert/Gerard -- we kiss like painted tigers; 1/2

[dear-monday.livejournal.com]

Gerard is falling-down drunk, laughing-drunk, flying-drunk, warm and pliant, and Bert is only a few drinks behind. Together, they stagger away from the noise and the lights of the main stage, stumbling to a halt on the grass in the shadow of the MCR bus. Gerard sways slightly, his smile guileless and liquid in the dark. He's still wearing his stage makeup, deathly pale with a thick, dramatic band of black across his eyes. It looks like a superhero's mask, or maybe a bandit's, the ends disappearing into his tangled mess of dark hair. The edges are still sharp and crisp and perfect, like he's only just finished painting it on.

Bert frowns. There's something wrong, he thinks blearily, with Gerard looking so – so clean when he's this fucked up. Gerard dodges interventions and gets away with murder because he's pretty, because he cleans up so nicely, and that's always struck Bert as deeply unfair. If you're a mess, you should look it. Without thinking, Bert reaches out and runs his finger through the sticky black facepaint, dragging a long streak of it down over Gerard's bright white cheekbone. It looks a little like a tear track.

"So we fucking match," he says. It's true and it isn't. It's – symbolic. Of something. Probably. He doesn't know. It's three a.m. and he's drunk and the cut-grass-gasoline smell of the air is making him dizzy.

Gerard has gone very still, lips parted, eyes big and dark. He doesn't look away. Instead, he swipes a finger along just under his eye, and draws a slightly unsteady stripe on Bert's cheek, biting down slightly on his lip in concentration.

"S'like war paint," he explains solemnly. "Now we match."

Bert has a sudden moment of clarity and wants to laugh; god, look at them, they're fucking ridiculous. As messes go, they're a disaster.

Gerard's forehead creases up with puzzlement. "What?" he says, and Bert realizes he was laughing out loud.

"Nothing, nothing," he says. "Just – us. Fuck." It shouldn't be funny. Maybe it's not.

Gerard still looks confused, like he wants so badly to understand it and doesn't know why he can't. He looks surreal in the dark, like an escaped character from a Tim Burton movie, pale and unearthly and just that little bit unsettling, that little bit off. There's a still, suspended moment, and Bert wants to touch him, wants to kiss him, wants to taste the smoke and the cheap beer on his tongue and the sweat and paint on his skin just to reassure himself that Gerard is flesh and blood.

He doesn't do it.

Pete/anyone

[gala-apples.livejournal.com]

aftercare kissing after a scene.

Pete/Patrick -- Up For Air 1/2

[jedusaur]

(co-written by me and verbyna)

Pete wanted to stop talking, and Patrick decided the best way to accomplish this was deepthroating. Pete really only ever stops talking when he can't breathe, but that's all right. Patrick knows Pete's limits better than Pete does. So he fucked Pete's throat with one hand tight in his hair and the other gentle on his cheek, and now Pete is on the floor gasping.

Patrick takes a moment to bring his own lungs under control before he tugs his pants up and kneels next to Pete, pushing his sweaty hair back. Pete makes a sound in his throat, raspy and a little painful to hear, and Patrick pets Pete's neck to quiet him down. "Don't talk," he says softly. Pete pushes into Patrick's hand, but he doesn't try to talk again. This is the part that Patrick still can't believe he's allowed to do: look at Pete like he's been doing for so long, and actually use what he sees to make Pete feel better.

Pete isn't hard. When it gets this bad, it's not a turn-on for him. He's too busy wrestling his head into submission to focus on his dick. Patrick used to care about that, but he's slowly realized over the years that sex doesn't have to be about sex. It's a strange thought, and a strange reality, but it makes as much sense as Pete ever does.

He looks at Pete's stark, wide-open eyes and realizes that the scene is over. He sits down and waits for Pete to remember that he can move closer without being told now that Patrick is dressed and done pushing. It takes a minute. Patrick counts his breaths to stop himself from hurrying things along. He tried that once, when they started figuring themselves out, and Pete broke down and started begging. It's not something Patrick ever, ever wants to see again, unless he's given permission and made it safe.

He's painfully aware that right now, he's the whole sane part of the equation.

Brian/MCR

[gala-apples.livejournal.com]

"It's, like, manager appreciation day!"

Re: Brian/MCR

[onthehill]

+1 x a billionty

Mikey/Ryan

[greenskribbles.livejournal.com]

kisses in cages

Maybe not exactly what you meant but...1/2

[slashxmistress.livejournal.com]

Mikey reached up above his head and grabbed the bars of his cage, rolling his hips as he did. He moved in a long, slow undulation that the customers always loved, easily keeping time to the pulsing beat of the stereotypical dance music of every club in this shit town. It kept them mesmerized while he gazed into the cage across the club, observing the timid new kid across the floor. What was his name? Ray? No....Ryan. Ryan Ross.

To say the least of things Ryan was having a hard time. He wasn’t gathering much of a crowd, and he’d been working for near an hour. So far only he only got hecklers that jeered at the nervous, awkward motions of his hips.

The kid was mostly angles, and he danced...Okay, he didn’t really dance. He more...moved like the music he heard was from another planet. Kinda....no. That was pretty much it. Mikey wondered why he was even working as a go-go dancer with those kinda moves.

But if he looked past the stiffness, and the only half-hidden terror in his eyes he could see there was something…he had a kind of beauty and ethereal prettiness that would have the patrons eating out of his hands if he could just loosen up.

Finally Mikey just couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed out of his cage and slid to the floor, stepping carefully to avoid the more -- ahem -- enthusiastic customers. Stalking over to Ryan’s cage, Mikey hoisted himself up over the top and dropped down in front of him. Ryan startled as it rocked a little from the added weight and flinched back like he expected Mikey to hit him. And, jesus, Mikey didn’t want to know what had taught him to react like that.

“Uhmm ...this is my cage. Bob said so...” The kid spoke with such a monotone that Mikey might have thought he was calm, but his eye’s were wide and frantic as they had been the entire time he’d been here. He kinda hoped that he hadn’t been this nervous when he first started.

“I know, I know, but you looked like you needed a little help over here.” Ryan looked pretty impressed by Mikey’s legendary monotone -- just as deadpan as his own.

“I..I...what?” Ryan fumbled out, blushing. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve got to relax. Loosen up,” he encouraged. He put his hands on Ryan’s waist and tugged them around to the rhythm of the pulsing music, matching them with his own so they were swaying into a sultry kind of grind. “You’ve got the look, you know? A pretty boy like you could be a star around here. But these jackals can smell blood in the water.” Mikey paused and gave a spare glance to the hungry eyes that had turned towards them in the past few minutes. “You can’t let them know you’re afraid. It’s the first thing you’ve gotta learn.”

“I-I’m not...” Ryan’s eyes went cold -- no, defiant -- and he stiffened in Mikey’s arms, trying to pull back. “Just go back to your own cage,” he whispered petulantly. “Leave me alone.”

“Yeah, you are kid,” Mikey said softly, looking right into Ryan’s eyes. He saw fear there, but he also saw strength. And...maybe something more. Something he’d like to learn more about at a later time. “I could see it from across the club, but you don’t need to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan looked back into his eyes then -- deeply -- like he was searching for something. “How do you know?”

Brendon/Gabe/Gerard

[dr-jasley.livejournal.com]

kissing in the rain

And you're overdue; Brendon/Gabe/Gerard

[creepylicious.livejournal.com]

Brendon is wearing a ridiculous shirt (baddest baby) even for Brendon, Gerard thinks. He is sure Gabe will like it, not that Gerard is admitting to listening to Gabe's band. Not that Gerard thinks he's too cool for that, you like what you like, but well...Gabe could get ideas. And Gabe is so full of himself already.

“I'm surprised you even wear anything except underwear these days,” Gerard says.

“That? Oh, you know the underwear is for the stage only,” Brendon answers grinning, but Gerard knows him, there is uncertainty under that grin. Brendon's still pretending.
Gerard wants to sigh, but he lights a cigarette instead – it is a copping mechanism. He takes a deep drag and catches Brendon staring at his lips. This would be such a bad idea, but Gerard won't lie to himself, he was thinking about it, he knows Gabe was thinking about it too. “So...where's Gabe anyway?”

“The hell I know. He's late because he thinks everyone can wait for him.”

“He thinks everyone will wait for him.”

“Yeah, that too,” Gerard answers, exhaling slowly. He is a sadist deep at heart. Brendon glances away from his lips as they hear the footsteps. “You're late.”

“I knew you would wait, Way.”

Gerard huffs. “Fucker.”

“I like your shirt,” Gabe grins at Brendon, ignoring him.
Brendon grins back. Such a bad idea, Gerard thinks.

~+~
It's the seventh not-date they're having – because, you know three guys getting together for dinner, movies and karaoke at every opportunity isn't dating. In what world that possibly could be true Gerard has no idea, but well, he is good at pretending.

“This is all your fault,” Gabe says, his hair a mess and it doesn't get better when he runs a hand through it to get it away from his eyes.
Gerard is pushing his sketchbook under his hoodie. Thank god he wears hoodies in summer too.
Brendon is shivering in his thin t-shirt, that Gerard is pretty pleased about. (Kiss me you animal).

“I didn't know it would rain like that!” Gerard gives back, pushing closer to the tree they're hiding under.
Gabe glares at him, but it looks ridiculous too. Gerard grins.

“What?” Gabe snaps.

“You look ridiculous and water is supposed to make people look hot,” Gerard sniggers.

“Your face looks ridiculous,” Gabe gives back with a grin. “And I don't need cheesy rain-water to make me look hot,” he adds. And that confidence is pretty sexy, Gerard has to admit. He bites his lip and Gabe zooms in on that.
Gerard is pretty sure Gabe's going to do something stupid that will end their not-dating, but in that moment Brendon snuggles into Gerard's side. His wet hair a shock to Gerard's system as it touches his skin.

“Sorry, sorry...I'm just freezing to death while you two are eye-fucking each other,” he mumbles into Gerard's shoulder.

“We're not-”

“Yeah, we so are,” Gabe interrupts him.

Gerard looks up at him and feels Brendon do the same. “It's kind of stupid,” Brendon says softly.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“Taking me with you so that you don't have to deal with the attraction...” Brendon mumbles.
Gabe laughs out loud.

“Gabe!” Gerard says sharply.

“What? Could he get it more wrong? Is he stupid?” Gabe gives back with a grin.

Gerard sighs. “Not helping!”

“Well, let me do this so everybody gets what I mean,” Gabe answers, grabbing Gerard by his hoodie and kissing him hard and messy. There is a strand of Gerard's hair in his mouth that tastes like rain-water and chemicals because he just re-dyed it two days ago. It's like Gerard would've imagined it if he would've imagined it happening at an old graveyard somewhere in the middle of a summer-storm.
He realises he is clutching at Gabe and that Brendon is breathing heavy beside him when Gabe grins and pushes Gerard away carefully.

“Your shirt isn't subtle,” Gabe says, leaning in and kissing Brendon. Gerard watches the rain run down Gabe's face and onto Brendon's lip. Licks his own lips like he could taste them that way.

“Okay...” Brendon breathes awed. “Okay...so, can I kiss Gerard now?” he asks.

“I'm declaring this a date and hell yeah!” Gabe answers.

~end~

Frank/Gerard

[piratesunk.livejournal.com]

Frank fights to defend Gerard's honor. Gerard kisses him to make it all better.

Re: Frank/Gerard

[lobsterclaaaws.livejournal.com]

I approve of this prompt.

[jedusaur]

Frank/Brendon, kissing each other to piss someone off.

Frank/Brendon - Just a Shade of Green

[dapatty.livejournal.com]

warnings/enticements: Frank is a hot ass, Ryan Ross has a potty mouth, Brendon is flaily and Spencer is giggly. Beta'd by s0ckpupp3t because she loves me.

Brendon couldn’t believe it had actually gone this far. Like seriously. How was this his life? Who has paltry arguments about the merits of rhythm guitarists making out together and that it would be more awesome?

“It would be more awesome,” Frank had insisted. Looking completely and totally serious and staring at Brendon’s lips more than a lot.

Apparently, the answer to the original question dealt with Ryan Ross being an impossible ornery shit and starting the whole debate. And maybe to do with his scarves. Or paisley in general. And Spencer was not helping. At all. Spencer was just giggling. This was absolutely the last time he let Spencer get giggly drunk without him at an afterparty where My Chem showed up. Spencer was fired.

“You are ridiculous, Frank Iero,” Ryan said, formally.

“Your face,” Frank chirped, causing Brendon to snicker.

“Well, if it’s so true, prove it,” Ross challenged.

“Prove what?” Brendon asked, his brain temporarily derailing because it sound like Ryan just dared Frank Iero to kiss him. On his face and everything. Brendon doesn’t know what to do with himself all of a sudden. Because he wasn’t anywhere close to the cheeky confidence that Frank seemed to embody. Like at all. Not this inert sexiness that Frank just wore like a second skin. Brendon had to work at shit like that. He had to put it on like a costume before he walked on stage every night. He was okay with being a total dork, could not believe the darkened look that Frank had for Brendon and his mouth. Seriously.

Frank grinned like he could see and hear all of Brendon’s thoughts and simply stepped closer.

“Seriously?” Brendon asked, breathlessly, because Frank was right there. So close. Brendon just needed to tip his head down and they would touch.

“Yeah,” Frank said, licking his lips.

Brendon answered by closing the distance, his lips touching onto Frank’s chapped ones, wet from where his tongue had been. Brendon opened his mouth, encouraging and Frank sucked on his tongue, then tasted Brendon’s mouth. Brendon tasted beer and some sort of lingering cinnamon that could have been gum or maybe just the way Frank tasted. Shit, was Brendon moaning? He should maybe stop that.

Frank giggled and broke the kiss. He smiled at Brendon like he was amazing and a treasure he didn’t know he’d get.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ryan stormed off, much to no one’s surprise.

“Huh,” Brendon managed, knowing that he was, indeed, grinning like an idiot and feeling his face blush.

“Damn,” Spencer breathed.

“Yeah,” Frank said, a little breathlessly and then kissed him again. Easier, deeper, this time, and with Brendon maybe grinding against Frank’s thigh a little.

“Frank, stop molesting the Panic kids,” Ray chided from across the room.

Frank broke the kiss to yell, “Maybe he was molesting me and I like it!” He gave Brendon a lewd wink and Brendon started laughing. Seriously. His life!

Panic/Gym Class - Brendon/Travie

[bootson.livejournal.com]

Brendon/Travie, kissing on the stairs

A Blustery Night, Brendon/Travie

[dr-jasley.livejournal.com]

It's chilly outside when Brendon ducks out the open window. He tugs on the zipper of his hoodie to maybe conserve some heat. Winter's soon approaching and he never expected to live anywhere where he might need to learn how to properly layer so he won’t freeze to death.

Travis is sitting on one of the lower steps of the fire escape, not too low down because the neighbors below them like to complain about the smell if Travis smokes too close to their window. Brendon drops down on the second step from the top of the landing and shoves his hands into the fleece lined pockets of his hoodie.

The cold seeps into his jeans from the metal of the step and Brendon shudders only a little. He's slowly getting used to the end of fall equaling actual cold weather, and not just seventy degrees with a chance of maybe a mild breeze. To distract himself, he hums a random tune that pops into his head and his right foot slightly nudges against Travis' shoulder when he sways his feet to his humming. Travis turns his head and smiles around his cigarette when he sees Brendon.

Cool fingers wrap around his ankle -one day he's going to remember that cuff socks are not the best decision to make when the wind likes to flick at the laces of his purple oxford converses almost daily during the cold months- and Brendon bites back the yelp that tries to slip from his lips. Travis tosses the burned out cigarette butt over the fire escape railing with one hand while the other tugs Brendon closer by his ankle. There's this playful smirk on his face and Brendon goes with the motion.

Kissing Travis is fun, and always a little bit thrilling. It's easy to forget they're outside during the middle of a late fall night. After several minutes, Brendon shivers and Travis laughs into his neck. The moment broken, Travis stands from where he was sitting. He offers Brendon a hand up and Brendon has to straighten a little from his hunched position before he can reach Travis' hand properly.

Once they've both crawled back through the open window, Brendon shuts the window and latches it. Inside the warmth of the heater curls around him like a cat weaving between his legs, it's comfortable. Travis wraps him up in a hug and kisses the top of his head. Maybe Brendon never expected to end up where he is now, but for once he's actually glad that things haven’t turned out how they were planned. He likes this outcome better than any of the alternatives.

Crossover: Kitty/Travis

[lucifuge-5.livejournal.com]

Cuddling

Crossover: Kitty/Travis

[lucifuge-5.livejournal.com]

Spin the Bottle

[melusina]

Gabe/William breaking up/making up

MCR, Gerard/Jamia

[girlpearl]

something in common

Objects in Mirror (Gerard/Jamia)

[melusina]

Ray's spent the entire morning bitching about how someone had taken the last of his special, just for Ray, DO NOT TOUCH strawberry pop-tarts. So when Jamia finds Gerard napping on the couch in the lounge, incriminating pink-ish crumbs around his mouth and down the front of his New York Dolls t-shirt, she can’t resist leaning down and sing-songing, “I know a secret. . .”

He was sleeping lightly (if at all), because he jerks up immediately, knocking a stack of comics to the floor. The panicked look on his face is entirely disproportionate to the crime of petty pop-tart thievery. After a few awkward beats, he says, “Oh, hey, Jamia,” too casually.

Now this, this is way more interesting than pop-tarts. Jamia doesn’t say anything, just puts on her mom’s “I’m not mad, I’m just hurt” face and waits.

Gerard runs his hands through his hair and starts babbling earnestly about homophobia and boundary policing and the importance of showing the kids that love is bigger than heteronormative expectations. None of which is new or in any way surprising to Jamia, or, for that matter, a reason for Gerard to feel guilty. Then he veers into a long ramble about his immense respect for Jamia as a person, and suddenly it all starts to make sense.

Gerard has been different since he got clean, like the drugs and the booze had dulled some essential part of him that’s finally able to shine through. Offstage he’s all coiled potential, quietly watching, pulled into himself, but hyper-aware. Onstage he’s more deliberate and more consistent, all that charisma and passion controlled and focused instead of fading in and out like it used to.

And whatever it is between him and Frank -- the partially buried possibility that Jamia has always chosen to ignore -- now it’s right up on the surface, impossible to dismiss. When Gerard grabs Frank during their shows, when Frank presses against Gerard, pliant and so fucking eager, it flares all around them. Offstage, they’re tuned into one another, joined at the hip, body language and expressions matching so often it’s become a running gag.

She knows Frank, and there’s no way he could hide it from her if anything had happened offstage. So, it hasn’t happened yet. But Gerard wants it, maybe was daydreaming about it just now, drifting on the edge of sleep.

While she’s been working this out, Jamia's lost the thread of Gerard’s rant, and when he stops suddenly, she’s caught off-guard, wondering if she’s supposed to respond now. The silence stretches out and Gerard abruptly adds, “So, you know, I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend?” the end lilting up uncertainly into a question.

“Maybe. . .” Jamia licks her lips, thinks about Frank’s hands in Gerard’s hair, about Gerard’s mouth on Frank. “Maybe I want you to steal my boyfriend. Or. . .I don’t know -- borrow him?” Jeez, now she’s doing it, her voice lilting up exactly like Gerard’s had, her challenging grin echoed on Gerard’s face as they lean into each other.

His fingers land on her wrist and he’s tugging her in closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She intends it to be daring and bold, but it comes out husky and breathless.

Gerard’s lips brush against her ear. “You too?” His voice is hopeful, and just a little tentative.

And yeah, of course her too. Fuck, all of them together, and isn’t that an inspiring thought?

Gerard’s barely touching her, but it feels far too intimate for the lounge in broad daylight. She nods, gripping his wrist hard to keep herself upright. He kisses the corner of her mouth, almost chastely, and then nips at her bottom lip before pushing her away gently.

“You should--”

“--talk to Frank,” she agrees. “When he wakes up, I’ll--”

There’s a wicked glint in Gerard’s eye. “Hotel night tonight. . .”

And that’s all the incentive Jamia needs.

MCR, Frank/Jamia

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

shotgunning just like old times

CS/MRC, Ray/Gabe

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

reunion

MCR, Gerard/Mikey

[carmesim.livejournal.com]

never on the lips

Share some skin; MCR, Gerard/Mikey (R)

[creepylicious.livejournal.com]

They never talked about it and Mikey isn't sure if it was because they didn't need to or didn't want to or possibly didn't know how to.
It doesn't matter now anyway anymore.

Gerard's lips are soft and wet from the water he had a few seconds ago. They feel cool on the skin of Mikey's shoulder. Running a path only seen by Gerard that makes Mikey shiver with anticipation. It's never the same path. Mikey never knows where Gerard will start or end kissing him.
The only thing he knows is that it won't be on his lips. Never.
Gerard counts the knobs that are Mikey's spine under his breath, it feels amazing, a lick, a kiss, a soft bite, cool air when Gerard blows on a wet patch he just marked with his mouth.
Sometimes Mikey is still surprised at the creativity Gerard displays after all these years. Mikey presses harder into the mattress as Gerard's mouth wanders lower. You can never be sure what Gerard will do and that is part of it. (Once Gerard kissed, licked and played with the soft skin at the hollow of Mikey's knee, simultaneously stroking his cock in a maddening slow rhythm for what felt like hours). Mikey bites his lip as Gerard's mouth brushes the curve of his ass. Gerard's tongue stroking a wet path down to where it meets leg and then inward. Mikey spreads his legs without prompting.
(In the beginning Gerard used to ask in soft whispers if it was okay, whatever he wanted to try at the moment and Mikey always said yes, because he trusted Gerard, trusts Gerard, will always trust Gerard with his skin and all the tender parts that are hidden beneath it).
Gerard spends what feels like hours kissing; soft brushes of lips on skin that don't go anywhere, that are so tender they wouldn't disturb a sleeping person, but that make Mikey burn inside with desire and the need for more and now.
When Gerard's tongue pushes inside Mikey comes suddenly, unexpected and so hard it hurts. He pants against the pillow, catching his breath while Gerard kisses his way back up to his shoulder, his neck and then turns Mikey so he can look at him.
Mikey takes a deep breath, drags his hand up to his own mouth, presses his lips against it and then reaches out to press his hand against Gerard's swollen, shiny lips. He can feel Gerard smile against his palm.

~end~

MCR, Frank/Gerard

[carmesim.livejournal.com]

balcony scene

Brendon/Gabe/Gerard

[bootson.livejournal.com]

Brendon/Gabe/Gerard, New beginnings

Awaken With Sleepy Eyes, Brendon/Gabe/Gerard

[dr-jasley.livejournal.com]

*this could loosely be considered more of the Snow White AU I have(Here (http://doctor-jasley.dreamwidth.org/58906.html))*

The room’s warmer than Gerard prefers it to be, the fire stoked into a merry blaze. It’s not uncomfortably hot though, so he should be fine. Plus, Brendon’s asleep leaning against Gabe’s side while the other flips through the pages of a tome, that could bludgeon a charging dragon to death, and Gerard’s not going to disrupt that.

Brendon still gets tired quickly and a chill tends to wake him up more often than not. Gerard feels bad when Brendon blinks sleepy eyes at him and tries to burrow closer for warmth before trying to sleep more. It’ll take time for the magic to settle properly in Brendon’s bones and until then Gerard finds himself tiptoeing around while Gabe continues to make all the noise he’s used to making because he says that they can’t let the magic revert back into it’s enchantment phase or Brendon might fall under the sleeping spell again. That doesn’t mean it stops Gerard from feeling guilty, or makes him quit skulking about like a shadow when he knows Brendon’s nodded off again.

Gabe’s not what Gerard would expect a court magician to be like, he’s vibrant and flashy and everything the king of Beldly isn’t. It had been surprising when Gabe decided to stay. Gerard was sure that Gabe would go back to advising the newly appointed king of Malure in Cardinal City, but instead he had asked to stay in Beldly. Brendon had been happy about that and Gerard had tried his best to shove the vile feeling of jealousy, that was crawling through his veins, down. It was wrong to be possessive of someone who’d been under a curse for years and was finally being freed from the confines of said enchantment.

That was before he realized Brendon didn’t have eyes only for Gabe. After that, things tumbled into this weird mix of the three of them slowly falling together. Gabe would seek out Gerard’s drawing spots, sometimes with Brendon sleepily clinging to his arm and sometimes alone, and Gerard found himself making time to check out the room Gabe usually did spell work in. If Brendon wasn’t with them, he’d smile sleepily at the both of them when he finally stumbled upon their current location before curling up at Gerard’s side if Gabe was busy..

To say that Gerard’s days have changed drastically would be an understatement, but it’s not really a bad thing. He still hangs out with his brother and Frank, who still like to pester him about random things, before occasionally deciding to tag along when Gerard decides to find where Brendon and Gabe might be at that particular hour. It’s different falling asleep in a bed with two other people, but not bad different.

Brendon makes a sleepy sigh of a sound before yawning and moving from his position at Gabe’s side. Gerard’s pulled from his thoughts at the sight because once he let himself watch, really pay attention without feeling like an outsider for doing so, it’s become something he enjoys seeing; Brendon craning up to lightly kiss Gabe and Gabe lazily kissing him back until Brendon blinks at him fuzzily.

His shoes tug off easily enough, and Gerard climbs up on the still made covers of the bed. Gabe moves around and sets the tome on the wooden stand that sits there. Brendon smiles at Gerard and leans forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. Gabe ruffles a hand through Brendon’s hair just to get him to huff at the motion before he gets close enough to kiss Gerard as well. They haven’t moved past kissing yet, and that’s ok. Better to take things at a steady pace instead of pushing things until they fall apart.

Slowly but surely they’re starting a new routine. A new beginning, and while Gerard never foresaw anything remotely like this happening to him, it’s not something he’s against. In fact, it feels right in ways he never thought anything else besides drawing and family ever could.

[squashbee.livejournal.com]

Mikey/Frank, Frank straddling Mikey.

On the Couch, Mikey/Frank

[s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com]

[first time, drunk!boys, pre-cleanup!Gerard]

Gerard emptied the contents of his stomach a second time, then mumbled, “I’m good, ‘mgood. Check on Mikey.” Frank handed him a glass of water and walked out to the couch, waving a hand in front of Mikey’s glassy eyes.

Didn’t seem to do the trick. Obviously, this called for some more direct action. Frank planted his hand on the back of the couch beside Mikey’s head, and threw a leg over, comfortably straddling Mikey’s lap. “Earth to Mikeyway, this is Houston.”

Mikey blinked, realized who was on his lap, and looked slightly alarmed before managing, “Gee okay?”

“Yeah, all out of his system now, I think.” Frank cocked his head at the distant sound of barfing and winced. “Okay, almost,” he corrected.

“Thank you,” Mikey said out of nowhere.

“Everybody needs a drunk-buddy sometimes,” Frank shrugged.

“No, I meant for being psychic.” Mikey said, flatly and cryptically.

“No problem?” Frank shrugged again, giggling. “Why am I psychic again?”

“You’re on my lap,” Mikey said like that explained everything, but it sounded like a non sequitur.

“Oh, should I move? Sorry, man,” Frank apologized and moved as if to go.

“No.” Mikey said, and stopped him with a hand on Frank’s hip. Frank settled down onto Mikey’s thighs again and laughed. “I wanted you on my lap and then you were on my lap. All...” Mikey gestured at Frank’s legs for a while, then nodded like that was the end of his sentence.

“Oh.” Frank bit his lip ring, trying not to think that that meant what he thought it meant. Then his head hurt from the not thinking.

Mikey’s hand tightened on Frank’s hip, and his other hand drew up to do the same. Frank looked down at Mikey, catching the faint glare of the television on his glasses. Mikey was frowning.

“What?” Frank was definitely right, it wasn’t what he was thinking it meant. Or he was wrong. Something.

“I want that. You keep doing that.” The frown deepened, and Frank would have done anything to fix whatever it was that Mikey was unhappy about. He chewed on his lip, uncomprehending.

“What am I doing? I’ll stop, whatever it is.”

Mikey made a frustrated little noise and jerked his head up, kissing Frank and digging his teeth into Frank’s lower lip. It was messy, and it hurt, and Frank finally got it.

But he pretended not to.

“You want a lip piercing? Mikey, that’d be awesome. I’ll so take you to get yours,” he fake-enthused, until Mikey saw through him and kissed him again.